Retribution
by Dexelator
Summary: My Death Knight Slyand returns to seek revenge on those who've wronged her and tried to put her down. However, when reconciling with her past, she finds some terrible news which will set her off on a road of damnation. Will contain violence and certain themes. Rated MA for violence.
1. She's Back

Echoes of cracking ice resonated along the abandoned halls underground. The dusty frozen halls remained silent for only a moment longer until sharp sounds of ice cracking and splitting disrupted its long silence. Deep within this ancient city stood a frozen figure, tall in stature and encased in armour of the dead which was locked in position by years of solid ice. Every inch of her body was covered in dark saronite armour that was fashioned to look like wood. A nod to her culture she held dear long ago. However her wood-like armour was adorned with carvings and imagery of the dead, damned and suffering , something she was very much used to after her time of servitude under the Lich King and then her battle against her own sanity which spilled onto those of the mortal flesh. The female Kaldorei whose face was shrouded with a dark hood and metal visor which obscured the lower half of her face, had eyes which remained wide and shone like a burning blue fire. She was ever watchful in her frozen stasis as her burning eyes of blue provided the only source of light in the dark halls as well the wicked curved blade which runes glowed eerily and flickered along the flat edge, much like the Kaldoreis burning eyes. Both her hands lay resting on the pommel of her sword with the curved edge resting slightly imbedded in the solid tiles below.

Another crack resonated through the halls. The ice along the sword began to split, its once smooth surface now marred with splintering and broken ice. The split grew aggressively and picked up pace until the ice along the Kaldorei burst forward and scattered along the dusty floor. The Kaldorei seemed to be unphased as she stepped out of the broken icy tomb with her heavy saronite boot crushing ice beneath her weight. Her wicked rune weapon scraped along behind her along the floor, introducing an ugly sounds of metal on stone which would send chills down the spines of those considered brave. She stood in silence monetarily as she grasped her sword and brought it up with both hands to gaze along it's sharp gore stained edge. She watched herself from her own reflection along the blade, showing no emotion about what she had become. She no longer was who she used to be and was no longer anyone's puppet. She was a harbinger of death, the bringer of pain and suffering. She was a weapon in which she sought to use against all those who have wronged her, shunned her and tried to put her down.

Her grip tightened around the decayed leather bound handle as she carried herself through the halls she had isolated herself within. Only until she saw the light of day peeking through a break in the roof did she stop to look up. Her gauntleted hand reached up for a small amulet around her neck, red in shape and almost looked to be made of glass. A glass sphere to be exact. She drew it up closer to inspect its contents of red swirling mist. Her words resonated through the halls even though they were nothing more than a throaty whisper. "Malice..." Behind that visor she grinned, flashing her white fanged smiled as she admired the plight of her past self. She chuckled grimly as she let the amulet hang around her neck once more. She wore it as a token of victory against her weaker self. Slyand, Malice... They were nothing more than children compared to what she is now. She was still Slyand now, at least physically, but there was nothing left of her old past self apart from the token around her neck encasing the spirits of Malice and Slyand.

She moved towards the light and exited the isolated broken halls to take her steps into the snowy wasteland that was Dragonblight. Harsh winds battered her armour and swung her torn thick cloak behind her. Her hood fluttered and flung behind her back. White hair blew in the wind instead however despite the harshness of the wind, the long strands of white hair floated as if submersed in water. Almost ghostly in nature. She made way for the nearest town. She had a hunger to sate and one that only blood could satisfy.


	2. Blood Lust

Three guards clambered into a nearby house. Their faces were blasted with warmth after being in the cold night for so long however the heat from the stove fire could not warm the chill in their hearts after the sights they had just witnessed. The first guard, clearly in command, barked his orders, commanding the other two to block the decaying wooden door with furniture and any possibly heavy items. The other two promptly headed to work, moving a table and chairs to block the decayed wooden door. All three knew it wouldn't hold her back. She had sliced clean through shield and armour like it was nothing.

"I told you we could never trust those Acherus scum!" The second bellowed to the other two as he nervously grasped his sword and shield and backed towards the edge of the room to only be able to glance at the door from a side view.

"She's gone rogue! She's got nothing to do with them any longer! They'll hunt her to the end of Azeroth, that's what they always do!" The third guard retorted. The third was a young woman barely of age, only a couple of weeks in the area after passing her limited training. She looked towards the guard in command for some form of reassurance but none was found, even he knew what they were in for.

The commanding guard stood in-between the other two at the back wall as they waited with sword in hand, his face weathered by the time and cold but wracked with fear. "We need to find a way- " His shaky voice was disrupted the door immediately caved, sending the table and chairs across the room in a broken mess whilst the door splintered. The young woman back against the wall as she whimpered slightly whilst the pitter-patter of her shame dripped beneath her as no one came through the door.

That's when the eerie darkness began to seep along the walls and floor, bringing it a light dusting of snow with it. A dark gauntleted hand grasped the doors frame and the wicked rune blade accompanied by dripping blood and an blue glow ice blue made its way into the room first. She followed after, her saronite boot thudding onto the ground with the wood creaking and groaning underneath its weight. Her tall figure came into view, encased in saronite armour fashioned to look like wood but was shrouded in an unholy darkness which tainted the walls and floor around her. Those chilling eyes like blue fire remained locked onto the three as they tried to bury themselves as far as they could into the wall behind them. She said nothing as her tall armoured frame turned to them. Her sword dripped blood and gore along the wood, a testament to her actions earlier in the night.

"E-enough! Acherus wench I'll - " He bolted for the Death Knight with his shield raised and his sword poised for attack. She was quicker, stronger and the man stood no chance from the moment he stepped from the wall. Her blade arced through the air, it's horrid edge screeching against metal for a moment before tasting the warm salty blood beneath. It was over in a moment as his chest and neck split open, spewing his still warm blood across the other two.

"Marcus!" The commander cried out aloud as he saw his brother in arms crumpled in a bloody heap before him. He looked with hatred and agony at the shrouded knight as she dryly chuckled at his plight. He charged, sword in hand and no shield. He knew it was finished but for him, it was better to die trying than begging. The outcome was similar. The knight of undeath skewered him with a powerful thrust, but it did not kill him immediately. Through gritting and bloodied teeth he raised his sword arm to carved down on the knights arm, hoping to hurt the knight grievously and give the last guard a chance. To his horror, the sword bounced clean off the saronite plate, not even a mark to be seen as evidence of his action. With his last few breaths he heaved and tried in vain to release himself from the knights blade. But the knight lifted him up effortlessly with the blade lurching in his stomach until he gargled and drowned in his only blood and falling limp.

Cruelly, the knight dropped the man to the ground and placed her heavy plated boot on his chest to draw the sword from the man's stomach. The blade hungered for more and the knight cast that hate filled gaze to the last guard, the woman. She had crumpled in a heap in her own dampness as she balled her eyes out only feet away from her comrades. The knight lowered her blade and kneeled before the fear-stunned woman. She reached out with her plated hand and gently grasped the woman under her blood stained chin to meet her weeping eyes with her own cold glare. Through a raspy deepened female voice the death knight spoke, "Such young beauty in the world still..." The shuddering girl whimpered as the knight could be seen through the unholy darkness, the Kaldorei markings around her eyes being the most prominent and only feature to be seen. The last thing she would see.

Wood splintered as the girl tried in vain to gasp for breath. That wicked rune blade had pierced clean through the woman and the frozen wall on the outside. The blade was withdrawn and then thrust back through again, and then again, and then again. Repeated thrusts that broke the woman and the wall alike until the blood lusting knight had had her fill. She slowly raised herself to admire the carnage and mess as the blood pooled and stained the wooden floors. She chuckled grimly as she sent her boot at the dead girl's chest, kicking her through the broken wall behind her and out onto the snow. The pure white snow was marred with the sprayed blood which was still warm to the touch.

Slyand's thirst was quenched and she felt wonderful for it.


End file.
